


And You Slept Through It

by WitchInTraining



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Christmas, Comedy, Family, KeithxLance, M/M, Misunderstanding, Romance, klance, new year's, real life AU, voltron fam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 22:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12921942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchInTraining/pseuds/WitchInTraining
Summary: Based on the 1995 movie "While You Were Sleeping", starring Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman.Keith spends his days as token collector for his local train station, living each day for that one moment the same beautiful stanger passes by his booth in the morning. On Christmas eve, he watches in shock as Mr. Perfect is pushed onto the tracks and jumps after him to save his life. Chaos ensues when a nurse assumes Keith and Mr. Perfect (who is now in a coma) are engaged and tells the stranger's circle of close friends about their "relationship". They embrace the orphan with open arms and Keith hasn't felt so unconditionally loved in a long time. The only one who doesn't believe in the story of their engagement is Lance, who is not only annoying, but also annoyingly charming. Can Keith survive in this web of misunderstandings and guilt? And will he get his Happy Ever After?





	And You Slept Through It

_Keith_

The bronze collection bowl in front of me clanged quietly as another train token fell in and I reached for it, simultaneously pressing the button that would open the barrier outside and let the middle-aged woman in front of my window onto the platform. It was a typical September day and I watched people pass by me, one by one, opening the platform barrier whenever someone handed me a token. They were anonymous, indistinguishable after a while, a stream of faces that blurred into one mass, day after day, month after month, year after year. I would sit here, in my booth, and watch the crowds cram themselves into the oncoming train and wonder where they were all going. My father, I mused, would have laughed at me for my cynicism and indecisiveness. He’d always been a spontaneous, emotional kind of man and had taken me on countless roadtrips around the area when I’d been just a child. I’d always known that the one thing my father truly wanted to do was to experience some great, wild travelling adventure in a country far away from here, but these were only accessible by airplane and plane tickets cost money, money he and I had never had… So my dad and I had only ever been around a day’s ride radius from home and the most exotic-sounding place he ever took me to was Milwaukee. I never minded it, though, because I treasured every minute with just the two of us and I loved listen to the story of my parents’ love time and again: how they met, who proposed, how the wedding went… I always asked my Dad how he knew that he truly loved my mother and he would reply the same every time. “Keith,” he’d say with a dreamy look on his face, “your mother gave me the world.”

‘The world’, in this case, was a small globe with a little light inside, but it was my father’s most prized possession. Another token rattled in the bowl and I snapped out of my daydream, pressing the button and absentmindedly looking up at the person in front of my. My heart stopped. I was staring at the most beautiful man I had ever seen. His skin was pale and flawless, his long, silvery blond hair trailed behind him, a shimmering waterfall on a moonlit night. His golden eyes caught the sun and he had a smile that I was sure would be lethal if aimed directly at people. My breath caught in my throat and any attempt to say something dissolved into thin air. The beautiful stranger passed through the gate and stepped onto the platform with countless other people, but my eyes could easily follow his tall, lean stature until he got onto a train and disappeared. I sighed heavily; I would probably never see him again. But I did; see him again, that is. The beautiful stranger passed by me wordlessly, every day, and I wordlessly collected his token, every day.

Christmas was drawing near and as the sparkling lights and decorations exploded around me, I decided it was time to get myself a Christmas tree. It was fairly large (I _love_ Christmas) and would not fit through the front door, so I had to find another way to transport it into my first floor flat. In a stroke of genius, I attached a long, sturdy rope to the tree and attempted to pull it up along the outside wall and through my double window. A plan easier thought up than executed, as I soon learned.

“Damn it,” I cursed between clenched teeth as the rope chafed against my fingers. I was just glad I was wearing my ever-present fingerless black gloves, otherwise my palms would be raw at this point. “40 dollars and they don’t even deliver it to your door!”

My ginger cat Cardinal sat in the corner, watching me idly.

“You know, you could give me a paw instead of sitting there, judging me,” I grunted, but Cardinal ignored my request. I gave the tree another hefty tug and felt some resistance, then panic shot up my neck as the rope started slipping through my fingers. “Oh no!” I yelped, but too late. The tree had slammed into a ground floor window with a mighty crash and only seconds later, a voice called out angrily.

“Keith!”

I hurried down the stairs and into my landlord’s flat, gasping when I took in the totality of the disaster. My beautiful tree had shattered my landlord’s window and was hanging, intriguingly balanced, half inside, half outside the building. my landlord, Mr. Kavinski, stood beside it, mustering me with an exasperated expression.

“I – quiznak, I am so sorry!” I assured, shrinking in on myself as I trudged over to the crime scene. 

“Keith.” Kavinski sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “How am I going to explain this to the insurance company?” he asked. “Cause of damage: tree through window.”

“I know, I’m so sorry!” I repeated. And I was. My apartment might a bit on the shitty side, and I would have liked to live a bit more comfortably, but it was the only place I could afford with my sad excuse of a salary and Mr. Kavinski was a kind and patient man. But all patience had limits, I knew. “I’ll pay for it if you want!” I suggested.

Mr. Kavinski sighed again and shook his head in defeat. “No,” he murmured. “No, it’s alright. It’s almost Christmas, after all.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” I exclaimed, heaving a breath of relief I didn’t even realise I was holding.

“Yeah, alright,” Mr. Kavinski grumbled kindly. “Go on now.” There was more warmth than malice in his voice and I was glad, once again, to have found such a generous man as a landlord.

I headed for the door and then stopped short as I remembered something. “Oh!” I exclaimed and strode back towards my landlord, pulling a little package out of my pocket. “I almost forgot.” I handed Mr. Kavniski the parcel and said, “Merry Christmas.”

The old man’s pudgy face lit up and I made for the door once more when another person’s voice resounded through the flat. I knew this voice and although I didn’t entirely mind the owner, I also wasn’t too keen on meeting him.

“Dad, do you know where the 2006er Gran –”

“Varkon!” his father cut him off, gesturing meaningfully towards me. “We have a guest.”

Varkon Kavinski caught sight of me and his posture changed immediately, as he attempted to tuck his large belly in and squared his shoulders in his greasy muscle shirt that didn’t do its name justice, not in this case, anyway.

“Oh,” he made and gave me a lavish grin. “Hey Keith. Nice…”

I waited, cringing internally, as Varkon fumbled with the words. I very much wished to be back in my apartment right now.

“Uh, shirt,” Varkon concluded and I gave him a half-smile that I was sure wouldn’t convince anyone.

“Thanks,” I said and turned to go.

 

_Keith_

Several days later, on my lunch break, I was ordering a hotdog from my usual place, when my supervisor Thace approached me with a wide grin.

“Keith,” he exclaimed. “My man! How you doin’?”

“Hey Thace,” I murmured as I watched the mustard-only dog I’d just ordered being loaded with pickles. Knowing the vendor couldn’t care less about what he served his customers, I just accepted the bun with a defeated sigh. I started making my way back to the train station slowly, aware Thace was still following me, beaming widely. I cocked an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothin’, nothin’,” he assured me, but he had sounded more convincing when he’d tried to convince everyone that the moon-landing was a fake on last year’s staff Christmas party. “Just thought you’d want to know I’ve put you down for employee of the month.”

I snorted as me and Thace continued our slow stroll back t the station. “Employee of the month? That’s not a thing.” I shook my head in amusement and inhaled half the hotdog in one bite.

“Sure is!” Thace insisted, pulling a slip of crumpled paper from his winter coat. He cleared his throat and started reading. “Keith Kogane is a hardworking and dedicated employee, always friendly and forthcoming, always on time, willing to work holidays, even when he’s worked the previous holiday…” Thace’s voice trailed off and now I knew where he was going. I felt the protest well up in my chest as he continued weakly. “Even if, say, Keith has worked Thanksgiving,” he peere dup at me from behind his protective sheet of paper, “he’d be just as willing to work Christmas.”

“Thace,” I said immediately, “I’m not working Christmas.” I produced a (possibly used) tissue from my coatpocket and started cleaning my fingers from the crumply remains of the sausage bun.

“Please!” Thace pleaded, displaying his best pout. Like that, he looked like a Rotweiler begging for another piece of meat. It was strangely adorable, but it wouldn’t sway me. “Tracie’s mom has fallen ill, so she needs to be there and I…”

“The Marmora reunion.” I sighed and crossed my arms. Thace had pestered me for months with his excitement about seeing his old army special ops friends again at Christmas eve. I knew what this event meant to him, and even though Thace could be a pain, he was still more of a friend than a supervisor to me. I groaned. “Thace,” I tried again, “I’ve put my name down for Christmas holidays months ago.”

“I know, I know,” Thace agreed quickly. “But, Keith, you’re the only one…” He trailed off, but he didn’t have to finish for me to know what he’d been about to say.

“Without family,” I finished his sentence and felt a distant tug inside my chest, but the feeling was so familiar by now I barely noticed it. A painful expression crossed Thace’s face and I found bitter delight in the fact that, at least, he felt guilty about it all. “Fine!” I grumbled and Thace’s face lit up like the Christmas display on Broad Street. “But I’m letting you know that you owe me!”

That night, back in my apartment, I was slowly, deliberately decorating the Christmas tree I had managed to get inside at last and old memories kept flashing before my eyes. My father and me covering a small tree in tinsel and fairy lights, laughter filling the air; maps and travel destination posters plastered to walls; an old Christmas album crackling in the old record player; the warm smell of baked apples wafting from the kitchen. I blinked and at once I was back in my own, small flat, quiet, sullen, the only smells immediately noticeable those of Cardinal’s dry cat food and the fresh, wooden scent of the tree’s needles. I clenched my fist around the tinsel, shoving the memories further away, into a corner of my awareness and, jaw set, continued decorating.

 

_Keith_

I had always imagined Christmas day to be much busier. People rushing to get to their families on time, lovers reuniting in longing embraces, children squealing as they ran onto the platform… but instead, the train station was awfully quiet and the hours passed like molasses, sticky, chewy, one minute extending into ten every time I glanced at my watch. Afternoon approached and the sun was sitting low over the city’s skyline. I was just pondering over skipping my freezer meal getting a Christmas special takeaway when _he_ approached. Tall and graceful and glorious, my perfect stranger passed by my booth, dropping a token coin down for me to collect. I tried not to stare as I pressed the button to let Mr. Perfect onto the platform. The other man hesitated for a second, then flashed me a brilliant smile through the window that sent my stomach flying.

“Merry Christmas,” he said and before I could so much as choke out a reply, the stranger had walked away and was now patiently waiting for the next train to arrive, leaving me sitting gaping in my booth.

“Nice coat!” I mumbled to myself, cringing at my lack of reaction. “Merry Christmas to you, too. You’re beautiful. Will you marry me? I love you.” Groaning, I flopped my head down on the table, letting the cool surface suck the heat from my reddened cheeks. I only looked up when I heard sneering laughter from the platform, only to see my Dreamboat of a man being pestered by a couple of teenagers who must have had too much eggnog. They were playing around with his scarf, pushing him lightly and Mr. Perfect, caught unawares, stumbled. Time slowed down and I watched in slow motion and the beautiful stranger slipped and fell backwards onto the train tracks. The teenagers panicked and took off in a heartbeat, leaving Mr. Perfect lying on the tracks. Adrenaline surged through my body and I rushed outside, coming to a skidding halt where I’d last seen his tall stature. I looked down and found him lying motionlessly in the gravel. Without stopping to think, I jumped down onto the tracks after him, and grabbed him by his shoulders in a fruitless attempt to wake him up. Panic catching in my voice, I called out, “Sir? Sir! Are you okay? Can you get up?” Unfortunately, this evoked no reaction at all and my beautiful stranger just kept lying there, eyes closed, like a pristine painting of a male Sleeping Beauty. “Please wake up, please!” I pleaded, leaning in to check if he was still breathing. He was, but I also, ridiculously, noticed how good he smells. Snapping out of it, I continued shaking him, calling for help, but no help arrived. A honking in the distance called my attention and my panic rose to a whole other level when I detected the train that was approaching the platform on the exact same tracks that the Stranger and I were currently situated. “Oh Quiznak!” I cursed. “Mr., wake up, please! There’s a train coming and it’s fast!”

Said train was closing in on us and I attempted to pull the stranger from the tracks, but he was too tall, too well-built for me to move. The train was only some 20 feet from us now and I could already see the end. I might not have fought as hard for myself, but here was my Mr. Perfect, in danger and about to die, and I would not let that happen. I grabbed him by the shoulders, kneeling over him and started rocking. Then, with a last act of adrenaline-enhanced strength, I rolled us both away from the tracks and out of the danger zone just as the train was rushing past. I panted, looking at him and noticing the bleeding wound above his right eyebrow with worry. Then, unexpectedly, his eyes flew open and he blinked at me.

“Hi,” I whispered, and then his eyes rolled back into his skull and he was gone once more.


End file.
